Things Fall Apart
by StickPegasus
Summary: Repost, I fixed a few things. The Marauders during and after the deaths of James and Lily, focuses mainly on Remus and Sirius but there's some Peter in there too. Fairly dark and angsty. Hope you like it!
1. Part I

Things Fall Apart ****

Things Fall Apart

by StickPegasus

Disclaimer: I own so little of this it's pathetic. I don't even own the plot. Sheesh. The great JKR owns everything Harry Potterish, and no matter how jealous that makes me there ain't a thing I can do about it. :)

I'm borrowing the title from a cool book by Chinua Achebe. Please don't sue me, not only am I not making a cent off of posting this, I don't have any money anyway.

A/N: This is the first chapter of I don't know how many. It's also my first fic, and I'm pretty excited about it. If you like it, please review, and even if you didn't like it, review anyway... I don't care. Enjoy! (I hope..)

The fire crackled mirthlessly in the chilly third floor room of the Riddle manor as Lord Voldemort stood before it. He gazed in to the flames, hypnotized by them as they licked relentlessly at the popping wood. His cruel face was hardened in thought... The Potters. They must be taken care of. The Potters were the only obstacle to complete world control, for once the two powerful Aurors and their son were destroyed, the Old Fool, Dumbledore, would have lost two of the most important members of his small army. Not to mention that the Potter boy would be a very powerful wizard if not eliminated soon.

Quietly, at his feet, Nagini stirred. She raised her head high, listening, smelling; she had heard something. 

"Do not fear, my pet, it is one of my servants," said the Dark Lord softly. He then directed his gaze sharply to the hallway, where there stood a meek, chubby little man, with a timid sparkle in his beady eyes.

"My Lord," said he, "my Lord, I have news that will please you." The man was clearly very nervous, his voice trembled and squeaked upon addressing Lord Voldemort. 

"I certainly hope it is worthwhile, Wormtail; you know what happens when you waste my time." At these words the man's eyes visibly darkened and his expression grew more tense.

"M-my Lord, I," he took a deep breath, his voice barely a whisper, "I can give you the Potters."

Voldemort's snakelike eyes widened and a cold, cruel smile twisted his lips. "How on Earth," he said, "did you manage that, Wormtail?"

"They have asked me to be their Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm, Lord."

"I would have thought they would have chosen that brazen fool, Sirius Black, or the werewolf." 

"S-Sirius convinced James that he would have been far too obvious as Secret Keeper... I don't know exactly what they think about Remus, but I was sure to mention, when I spoke with them, that I thought he might be slipping you secrets, my Lord... They know that someone is giving information but they don't know who exactly. But Sirius convinced James that I would be the least obvious choice, and he and Lily finally agreed, my Lord."

"Very well. Good work, Wormtail. If what you say is in fact true," Voldemort's smile grew more cruel, "then very soon, I shall rule the world."

~*~

Earlier that evening:

"Listen to me, James, for God's sake," Sirius Black gripped James Potter's shoulders tightly. His deep black eyes had a different fierceness in them, one that James had rarely, if ever, seen. "I don't trust myself with your secret. What if they torture me, and I crack? I couldn't live with having betrayed you and Lily. I know that the minute the charm is performed, the Death Eaters will come looking for me because they'll know that I'm your best friend, and obviously Secret Keeper. They'll be ready to torture it out of me, Prongs, and I don't know if I will be able to hold it back if they hit me with the Cruciatus Curse for very long. If I tell the secret, James, they'll- they'll come after you, and Lily, and little Harry, and it will be MY fault for being weak! Please, James, I beg you... don't use me. Use someone else. Then, when they come after me, thinking that you must have used me, they can torture me to their hearts' content and I won't reveal anything."

"But Padfoot... I trust you with my life! I know that you'll be able to-"

"No, James. I can't. I just- can't. This is too important."

Lily looked up from feeding Harry and stared intently at Sirius and James. She looked at the fierce determination in the eyes of her husband's best friend, and knew that there would be no changing his mind. "Well, then, James, I want Remus to do it. He's the next best choice- you're almost as close to him as to Sirius, and there's no way that Moony would ever let the Death Eaters find us, I'm sure. I trust him," she said.

Sirius' expression became very drawn and worried. "I don't think that's such a good idea," he said slowly.

Lily's green eyes flashed. "What do you mean, Sirius? You're not honestly trying to tell me that HE has been passing information to Voldemort?! Because I refuse to believe it." She searched Sirius's eyes. "I don't think you believe it either, no. Not Remus. Never." James nodded in agreement. 

"No, no, I'm not saying- I mean, I don't believe that he would do that, but-"

"What, Sirius?" Asked Lily.

Sirius sighed deeply. "The full moon was night before last, and it was very difficult for him. He's very weak, and still in a lot of pain. Something is bothering him- something I don't even know about, but it's awful. The wolf ravaged his study, ripped everything off the walls and nearly tore through the door. You should have seen him that morning when I went to check on him... he lay there, trembling like a leaf, nearly unconscious in a pool of his own blood. When the wolf got tired of trying to escape, he unleashed the fury on himself. I'm telling you, Lily, there's something on his mind that he's not telling us, and it worries me."

James and Lily stared at Sirius; Lily was very pale. "Imagine what he's going through, James," Lily said. "Something so horrible is inside him, and he's not letting it surface until he's transformed... the poor dear, we should go see him, make sure he's all right."

Sirius looked at the two of them. "I've tried to speak with him about whatever's bothering him, but he won't let me. He's shutting me out for some reason... he seems perfectly normal otherwise, but I can tell that something's wrong. It may not even have anything to do with Voldemort, which I'm sure is true, but I don't know if he can take any more pressure so soon."

James nodded grimly. "Poor Remus. Soon this will all be over, and everything will be back to normal, and when we've defeated Voldemort we can all relax a bit, right Lil?"

The three of them smiled weakly.

"So James, I think that you should use Peter instead. It's the perfect ruse! The Death Eaters will never think to come after him! I mean, honestly, even if they figured out that it wasn't me, they'd head for Remus next, wouldn't they? It's perfect!"

James looked at Lily. "All right, call Peter," he said.

"I'll leave you guys to talk to him about it, and I'll see you tomorrow then. I'm going to go see about Remus." 

James walked Sirius to the door. "Take care, Padfoot... I'll see you in the morning."

~*~

Remus Lupin sat in an overstuffed armchair with his feet on an ottoman before a bright fire. In his long fingers he cradled a steaming cup of tea, which he sipped absently. He was exhausted. He couldn't remember a night when the full moon was harder on him than the last. He didn't remember much about that night, except feeling... hunted... and alone. The transformation itself had been very painful, more so than usual, and to top it off, the wolf, when it realized it could not escape, turned on itself. Remus would have several angry scars from these wounds, he was sure of it. Sirius had patched him up, but werewolf scratches and bites were hard to heal. 

Sirius... it was odd... Sirius had seemed very distraught when he had come to check on him yesterday morning. Remus knew that a lot was at stake, what with Voldemort searching so relentlessly for Lily and James, but it was strange to see his carefree friend so worried about something so ordinary as a wounded werewolf after the full moon. 

_Perhaps not having Padfoot with me_, Remus thought, _was what made the wolf feel so- confined. But we had decided the night before that Sirius was to stay with James and Lily and Harry -just in case. But something was still wrong. With both of us._

Remus had to admit that this worried him, a lot. He knew that someone close to James and Lily had been keeping tabs on them for Voldemort, but could Sirius suspect him? Or could it even be Sirius? _No_, Remus thought fiercely, _drive those thoughts OUT of your head, NOW. Sirius knows that I would never do that, and I know the same of Sirius. The pressure- it's making us all crazy, that's all._

He rubbed his temple wearily, but despite his exhaustion, Remus knew that it would be a long time before he would be able to really sleep soundly. Nightmares always came after the full moon, to be ripped from the arms of sleep so violently was not something he wanted now. So he sat, staring in to the fire, torturing himself with his own thoughts.

~*~

"Tell me, Wormtail, when will the Fidelius Charm be performed?" Inquired Lord Voldemort. He sat in an armchair before the fire, his fingers steepled, his back to Wormtail. 

"Tomorrow evening, just after supper," he replied timidly. "After the spell is cast, I will come to you with the information, my Lord."

"Very well." Voldemort's words were barely audible. "Remember, Wormtail, if you fail me, I guarantee that you will regret it."

He shuddered at the Dark Lord's words. Peter Pettigrew knew all too well the wrath of the Dark Lord. He was familiar with the Cruciatus Curse. He had seen the indifference with which Voldemort used the Killing Curse. No, this was not a man to cross. 

"Now, Wormtail, go; make whatever arrangements are necessary to perform the Charm. I will await your arrival tomorrow evening."

~*~

The next day was spent making preparations for the casting of the Fidelius Charm. Peter had accepted James and Lily's request to be Secret Keeper somewhat nervously, but neither James nor Lily thought this odd. It was a remarkable responsibility. Not to mention the fact that Peter was ordinarily a rather nervous person. 

Sirius came to visit that afternoon, briefly. He was very relieved that Peter had agreed. "The Death Eaters will never even think to look for him," he had said. "I have to get a sleeping potion for our insomniac werewolf now, James. Take care of yourselves, all right?""We will, Sirius. We will." James and Sirius embraced before Sirius left. 

After supper, Peter Pettigrew arrived in Godric's Hollow on James and Lily's doorstep. James opened the door.

"Hi Peter," he said with a smile. "Come in."

Peter and James made their way to the cozy living room where Lily sat, holding Harry on her knee. Lily smiled brightly at Peter. 

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" James said. "This is a fairly difficult charm, and it will take both Lily and I to do it. So just sit tight while we enchant you with our secrets," the three of them laughed nervously. 

Lily sat Harry down on the couch, where he watched in rapt attention. She stood beside James, facing Peter. "Since we've put up such elaborate wards on this place, Voldemort does not yet know we are here. It's only a matter of time, though, before he stumbles upon us and tears our wards down. We're going to enclose our location and how to get past the wards in you, and then, even if the Death Eaters come close, they won't be able to get in," she said.

"All right, Peter, Lily, we have to touch the tips of our wands together, and then Lily and I will cast the spell. When we stop the spell, you can lower your wand, and what is said from the time we cast to the time we stop will be enclosed in you, Peter."

The three of them raised their wands so that they touched, then James and Lily spoke at once.

"Fidelius." They said. The three wands began to glow a soft blue. 

James spoke first. "James, Lily, and Harry Potter are tucked away in their home in Godric's Hollow. There are several charms to get around before gaining entry to the house."

Then Lily spoke. "The wards around the house are old magic, and to break them you need to speak the counter-charms." She went through the list of every spell she and James had cast around the house, and the words used to break them. 

"Finite Incantatem," they said together. The blue glow faded to nothing and the three lowered their wands. For a moment all was silent, then James sighed softly.

"Thank you, Peter," he said. Peter smiled. 

The three of them got up and walked to the door. "Get some rest, buddy. We'll see you later," James told Peter. As he walked down the garden path in the twilight, James and Lily watched him go. 

"I hope he takes care of himself," Lily said. "I hope that Sirius is right and the Death Eaters won't look for him."

"I told him to go in to hiding until this all clears up. Hopefully Dumbledore will have enough information from whatever raids they make tonight to make some serious progress in this war." James put his arm around Lily's shoulders and they went back to the living room to play with Harry.

~*~

Peter Pettigrew went home and had a cup of tea before meeting with Voldemort. It helped to calm his nerves. He knew that this was wrong, betraying his only friends like this, but there was nothing else he could do. He needed to please Voldemort, before the Dark Lord grew tired of his feeble assistance and decided to kill him. He didn't want to die.

After his tea was finished, Peter rolled up his left sleeve and touched his wand to the Dark Mark there. It burned in his flesh, and he allowed the pain in his arm to guide him to Voldemort. He then held up his wand and Disapparated.

He reappeared on the porch of the Riddle manor, and entered the old house without qualms. He mounted the rickety old stairs, listened to their creak beneath his feet, and walked down the hall until he reached the room where the Dark Lord sat before the fire. He knocked softly on the ancient door and entered when the Dark Lord's cold voice beckoned him to do so. 

Lord Voldemort stood facing the fire, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. "Ah, Wormtail," he said without a glance. "I take it the charm was successful?"

"Y- yes, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort turned slowly. The firelight played terrible shadows across his grotesque face and around his tall, thin frame. "Then tell me," he said softly, menacingly, "where are Lily and James Potter?"

"James, Lily, and Harry Potter are tucked away in their home in Godric's Hollow. There are several charms to get around before gaining entry to the house." He went on to describe the wards and how to dispel them, exactly as Lily had said mere hours before.

"Thank you, Wormtail, you have been very helpful to me. I will call the other Death Eaters; then, while you tell them about this evening, I will perform the murders I have been waiting for for so long." His thin lips formed a cruel smile. He pressed his finger to Peter's Dark Mark, and as it sizzled, the other Death Eaters were summoned. "Tell Lucius, when he arrives, that he is to make sure everyone waits until I return." Then, with a twist of his wand, he Disapparated to Godric's Hollow.

~*~

James was bouncing Harry on his knee when a sharp knock was heard at the front door. He looked, puzzled, at Lily, handed Harry to her, and went to investigate. "I'll be right back, dear," he said.

He threw the door open and was met face to face by a tall figure robed completely in black, with a black hood over his head. As he lowered the hood, James knew that it was Lord Voldemort himself. 

"Lily! It's him!" He shouted. "Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off!" He stumbled, and began to run. "Go, Lily, run! Now!" He turned and pointed his wand at Voldemort, who had yet to raise his.

"Will you, really, Potter? I've been waiting for this for a long time, I assure you." 

James was about to disarm and stun Voldemort when the Dark Lord raised his wand, grinning maliciously.

"Avada Kedavra," he said. A jet of green light shot from the end of his wand and hit James Potter square in the chest. He was dead. Voldemort grinned down at his body in satisfaction, and he laughed, high and cold. "One down, two to go," he said.

With a swish of his cloak he turned, and swept down the hallway to the back of the house. 

~*~

Lily had heard Voldemort murder her husband in the front hall. Tears streamed steadily down her face as she clutched Harry to her. There was no place else for her to go.

She lifted her wand and pointed it at baby Harry and cast the most powerful protection spell she knew. She put everything she had in to it. All the love she had for Harry went in to that charm, and she hoped it would be enough to save him from the fate that was hers.

As she turned around, Voldemort charged in to the room. "Give me the child," he said.

"No! Not Harry!" Lily begged. "Please, not Harry! Please- I'll do anything. Don't take him from me!"

"Stand aside, girl, I want him first!"

"No!" Lily sobbed. 

"Get out of the way!" Voldemort was tired of this. "_Avada Kedavra_!" He shouted. Lily fell to the floor, but Harry was unharmed. This could not be. The boy must NOT live. Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry. "_Avada Kedavra_!" 

The room exploded in green light. The curse rocketed off of Harry and hit Voldemort, who was ripped from his disintegrating body. As the house tumbled down around little Harry, the Dark Lord's spirit was carried away on the wind. But he was not truly dead. He would be back, and would take vengeance upon this child for destroying him. 

~*~

Sirius Black paced in the front room of his apartment. He knew that the Death Eaters were looking for him, but that wasn't what made him so nervous. Something was wrong. He could sense it. He kept trying to tell himself that everything was going to be all right, and that once the Charm was performed, Dumbledore would be able to hunt down Voldemort rather than hide James and Lily from him. 

He glanced at the clock. Seven. They'd probably just begun to cast the spell. He paced some more, raking his hands through his thick black hair. 

Earlier that day, he'd been to see James and Lily and Harry. He was so worried about them! What if the Death Eaters showed up before the spell could be cast? What if they found Peter?

He forced himself to rationalize and relax. _You're just nervous. Get over it_. He went in to the kitchen to make something to eat, but by the time he'd made a sandwich he realized that he wasn't at all hungry. He left the sandwich lying on a plate on the counter and resumed his pacing in the front room.

"I hope Remus is all right," he said to himself. Sirius had been worried about him also. Something was wrong, and he didn't know what it was. The full moon was harder on his friend than he could ever remember... and he didn't know why. That worried him. 

Sirius had seen Remus that day also. He could tell that Remus was having trouble sleeping; the dark circles under his eyes, which contrasted so drastically with the pallor of his tired face, made that obvious. Remus was usually fairly pale, but this month was worse, so he'd brought him a sleeping draught. Hopefully his friend had been able to sleep peacefully once he'd left, and hopefully he would continue to sleep through the night. Instead of worry. Sirius knew that Remus would be worrying himself sick, almost as sick as Sirius himself was now, if he weren't in a deep sleep.

Sirius willed himself to sit. After all, it surely wouldn't do to have a deep trench in the carpet... the landlord would not be pleased. But he just couldn't ease his troubled mind. Perhaps some tea will help. He made his way again to the kitchen and put the kettle on. 

A little while later, Sirius had drunk three cups of tea and was on his fourth as he paced once again in his front room. Enough of this! He thought. I'll just go check on Peter, make sure he's all right, make sure the Death Eaters haven't come looking for him. He left the apartment, climbed on his infamous motorbike, and took off.

~*~

The quaint little cottage was dark when Sirius landed in front of it. He knocked apprehensively, and when Peter did not come to the door he became quite worried. 

"Peter! Open up, it's Sirius! Where the hell are you?" He pounded on the door. 

After a minute or so of this, Sirius magicked the door open and entered Peter's house. A quick peek in the rooms told him that Peter was not in. 

No sign of any capture. It certainly did not look as though any Death Eaters had been here. Everything was in order, and the door had been neatly latched (before Sirius had opened it, that is). No, something was definitely wrong.

Sirius looked around anxiously for any sign of Peter. His nerves were shot. Peter was gone.

"Bloody hell," Sirius said vaguely. This was very, very wrong.

He ran outside, got back on his motorbike, and flew like a bat out of hell to Godric's Hollow, hoping against hope that everything was in fact all right. Nothing he had ever seen in his brief time as an Auror could ever have prepared him for the shock that he felt when he arrived. 

James and Lily's house was a pile of wreckage. It was utterly destroyed. And high above it, in the sky, obscuring the stars, was the Dark Mark. Sirius ran to the house.

"James! Lily! Dear God, JAMES! Oh, please, oh please, don't be here... Please, please have gotten away..." Sirius was nearly hysterical. He searched the wreckage for any sign of life.

Then he stumbled across the body of his best friend, lying in what used to be the hall.

"No! James!" And this was all too much for Sirius. He broke down, sobbing bitter tears. PETER... Peter did this.. Oh, God, James, what have I done? What have I done? This is all my fault...

Sirius stood slowly, glancing at James's body once more, tears streaming steadily down his face. Lily. He must find Lily. And Harry- his godson. Oh, God. 

Rubeus Hagrid heard Sirius's desperate sobs as he picked Harry Potter out of the wreckage that was his home. Hagrid sniffled loudly and cradled Harry to his chest, then walked towards the front of the house. He saw Sirius, his head bent in sorrow. 

"Sirius?" He said quietly.

Sirius looked up. He was paler than Hagrid had ever seen him, his eyes were red and swollen, and he was shaking violently. "Hagrid..."

"Oh, Sirius, I'm awful sorry... poor James an' Lily..." he blew his nose loudly into a handkerchief in his free hand. 

Then Sirius noticed Harry. 

"Harry... he- he's ... alive?"

"Yeah, I don' know how... look at the gash on his forehead... an' You-Know-Who's gone! Som'thin' about little Harry here defeated him, Sirius."

"Hagrid, give- give Harry to me. I'm his godfather... I'll look after him," Sirius said unsteadily.

"Aw, Sirius, I can'. Dumbledore's said he's ter go an' live with Lily's muggle sister," said Hagrid.

"But- Hagrid, he's... he's James and Lily's son! He can't be raised by muggles! I'm his godfather."

"No, got ter follow Dumbledore's orders. I'm awful sorry, Sirius."

"Can I at least say goodbye to him?"

Hagrid handed the little bundle to Sirius, who cradled it like his life depended on it. He rocked Harry back and forth as the tears ran steadily down his face.

"Goodbye my little Marauder," he said softly. "I'll see you around." Sirius handed Harry back to Hagrid. "Hagrid, take my motorbike... I won't be needing it anymore," Sirius said heavily.

"All right. Will yeh be all righ', Sirius?"

"Y- yes. I'm going to stay here and... say goodbye," he sniffed.

"Goodbye, Sirius. Good luck." Hagrid smiled weakly, then mounted the bike and flew away.

Sirius watched him go. Then he went to look for Lily. Her fiery red hair wasn't difficult to spot, even through all the mess. He knelt down beside her, the tears in his eyes threatening to overwhelm him. "This is all my fault, Lily. I'm so sorry," he choked, and a new wave of sobs cut off his words. "I should have listened to you... Remus would never have done this... it was Peter, he must be working for Voldemort... he must have been the spy... oh, God," he dissolved once more in to tears.

After a few minutes, Sirius picked Lily's body up and carried her to the front of the house. He laid her on the ground next to James and cried.

Soon the Ministry wizards would arrive, and the muggle police, and Sirius did not want to deal with people right now. He stood wearily and looked at James and Lily for one last time. "Goodbye, my dear friends... I'm so sorry."

He had to find Peter.

~*~

Dawn broke cold and crisp the next morning. Sirius had not rested. His face was drawn, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was exhausted. But he didn't notice. He had to find Peter, that spineless little rat. He would pay for betraying Sirius Black's friends. He would pay dearly. 

It was a few hours before Sirius caught up with Peter Pettigrew. He spotted him on the street in a muggle town. He strode towards him, menacingly, until Peter spotted him. 

The disgusting traitor turned abruptly and ran towards Sirius. "Lily and James, Sirius!" He sobbed. "How could you?!" 

Sirius started to draw his wand. "How could I? You-" His words were cut off by a tremendous explosion in the street behind Peter. When the dust settled, a pile of bloody robes lay in the street where Peter had stood. Sirius never even had the chance to curse him, the little bastard. 

Ministry Hit- Wizards were on Sirius like ants on an old Chocolate Frog. Sirius was beyond shock. He'd lost his chance to avenge James and Lily. He was out of tears. All he could do was laugh, bitterly, as the ministry carted him away.

~*~

Remus Lupin awoke around nine on the morning of November the first. He had slept ever since Sirius had dropped by yesterday afternoon with a sleeping draught for him, for which Remus was grateful. The long sleep left him feeling groggy and a bit stiff, but he felt recovered from his transformation the other night. 

As he stretched languidly and pulled himself out of bed, he thought of Sirius. Last night, he and James and Lily would have cast the Fidelius Charm... he hoped they were all right. He shuffled to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. As soon as he settled down at the table, full teacup in hand, he heard an intense rapping on his front door. I wonder who it could be... it's a bit early for Sirius to visit...

He cradled his warm teacup in his hands and walked to the door. When he opened it, he saw Albus Dumbledore standing on his porch, looking very haggard.

"Headmaster! Do come in," he said. He was surprised to see Professor Dumbledore this morning. But something was wrong. The Headmaster's eyes were missing their usual sparkle, and he looked very -well, old. 

"Remus..." he said slowly.

"What's wrong, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "James- James and Lily were... murdered... last night, Remus. By Voldemort. Peter was killed this morning, along with twelve muggles... Sirius- was arrested, Remus-"

The teacup in Remus's hands fell to the floor with a great clatter, and shattered in to a million pieces on the hard wood. But Remus didn't notice. The tea spilled out on to the floor, making a dark puddle around the shards of china. But Remus didn't notice. The world around him grew blurry, and he tried to listen to what the Headmaster was unsteadily saying, but he couldn't focus. The entire world came crashing down and shattered in to a million pieces around him, all he knew to be true and right puddled around the broken shards. And he was completely powerless to stop it. 

Dumbledore was apologizing softly, and tears were running slowly down his pale cheeks. Remus drew in great gulps of air and clutched his hands to his chest. He didn't know what to do. He sunk to the floor slowly at first, then his knees gave way. He felt Dumbledore's strong, thin hands grasp him beneath his arms and guide his descent to the floor, where he crumpled among the shards of china. He felt two thin arms wrap around his body. Slowly awareness crept back to his mind, and he realized he was sobbing; great, desperate sobs that threatened to consume his entire being. His cheeks were wet from the tears that ran endlessly down his drawn face. Dumbledore sat patiently with him.

After several long minutes the sobs diminished enough for Remus to speak. 

"So Sirius was- the spy?" Remus could not believe it to be true. If Sirius Black was a spy for Voldemort then it seemed that all the truths he had believed before were askew. Sirius had been the most loyal friend he had ever known, both to himself and to James. If there was one person to trust, it was Sirius. If there was one good- hearted person in this world, it was Sirius. This was impossible.

"It seems that way, Remus. I am so sorry." Dumbledore looked very tired. "All we found of Peter was his finger... it seems that he found out about James and Lily and went to confront Sirius... but he wasn't fast enough. Poor boy..."

"But this can't- oh, my God, I- I don't know what to say. I just find it so hard to believe that Sirius... my best friend, for God's sake, betrayed them... dear God..." he broke off in to more quiet sobs this time.

He stopped crying abruptly. "What about Harry?"

Dumbledore smiled very slightly. "Harry lived. Voldemort tried to kill him, and failed," (Remus's jaw dropped), "and he has been sent to live with Lily's muggle sister."

"Harry? He's alive? And Voldemort is... ?"

"Gone. For now, at least, Remus. It doesn't feel to me that he is truly gone."

"I see." Remus looked out the window at the bright sky. This wasn't right. His life was ruined. Shouldn't it be raining? James and Lily and Peter were dead... Sirius was responsible... Remus dissolved in to tears once more.

**A few minutes later, Dumbledore spoke. "I'm sorry, Remus, but Sirius is due to go on trial in a few moments out at the Courthouse. I have to go. Will you be all right?"**

Remus looked up in to Dumbledore's piercingly blue eyes. He searched them for some sort of guidance, some sort of truth. But it seemed that even Dumbledore could not help him now. "Let me go with you... please, sir, I need to see Sirius..."

Dumbledore gazed back at him for a moment, then said tiredly, "All right. Let's go."


	2. Part II

It was very cold in the high-ceilinged stone chamber of the Courthouse ****

Things Fall Apart; part II/ ?

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything! (Except the title, which is Chinua Achebe's.) I don't really even own the plot, which is fairly pathetic. Oh well. ****

A/N: Thanks SO much to those of you who reviewed, I really appreciate your thoughts. Thank you to: Northern Star, The Puck, Voltora, Becca Potter, Nikki, Briefly Del, Loony Loopy Lupin, and Blinky!

And now, here's more:

It was very cold in the high-ceilinged stone chamber of the Courthouse. Albus Dumbledore sat on the front bench at the far right of the room and glanced around at the others who had come to the trial of the century. Remus Lupin sat several feet away from him, his head bowed in sorrow. The poor man had lost all of his dearest friends in one night. All the color was drained from his already pale face, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen with tears he struggled to keep in check. 

Others sat in the courtroom also. There were a few suffering like Remus, though not as much. Most of the others sat rigidly in their seats, jaws clenched, awaiting the arrival of the madman who had ruthlessly killed thirteen. They didn't know that he had been the spy who was responsible for James and Lily as well.

Slowly, the door opened, and Barty Crouch walked in. He had a baneful look on his hardened face, and there was a murderous glint in his eyes. There was nothing he liked more than condemning Death Eaters. He took his seat at the judge's podium.

After Crouch came several human guards, who positioned themselves about the room. Next came four dementors. Their presence drew away whatever feeble warmth was in the room. It was one thing to chill the air, but chilling the heart and soul was a far more sinister duty. Dumbledore shivered momentarily, then braced himself to chase the terrible dark memories from his mind.

The dementors did not enter alone, they surrounded Sirius Black. His defeated expression was exactly what Barty Crouch wanted to see. His jaw was set, and those deep black eyes that had once sparkled so brilliantly were dimmed. His robes were torn and bloody; he was filthy. Dumbledore could tell, by the look on his face, that he was clearly affected by the dementors. He had never seen such anguish on the face of Sirius Black.

After Sirius was bound to his chair, the dementors left the room for the comfort of the spectators. The anguish on Sirius's face visibly lightened, but it was far from gone. Dumbledore wondered whether or not there was more to this story than he knew. Perhaps Sirius wasn't the cold-blooded murderer that everyone thought he was... this man clearly had qualms about what had happened. But after all, he had been their Secret Keeper... Dumbledore knew that for certain.

Crouch banged a gavel on the podium, and in an instant, all eyes were on him. He cleared his throat sharply.

"You have all heard of the appalling crime that took place this morning. I have reviewed eyewitness accounts, and believe firmly that this man, Sirius Black, should be condemned to life in Azkaban, without possibility of release. It is the duty of the Ministry to keep Death Eaters from taking any more lives. Guards," he boomed, "Get this man OUT of my sight."

Dumbledore sighed. Is this what it has come to, the Ministry eliminating the legal process to speed things up? It was futile to argue with Barty Crouch... and he is right, all accounts do point to Sirius, there is no doubt about that. There was no one else who could have killed Peter and all those Muggles... And Sirius had been Secret Keeper…

~*~

Sirius had never felt so awful in his entire life. The dementors surrounded him, and all the horror of the night before came back with a vengeance. His insides felt so cold... so cold... and his heart was wrenched with grief. As he was escorted from the courtroom, he thought, vaguely, that that had been a rather insufficient trial... there was not a single testimonial... here he was, condemned for life, and not even given the opportunity for legal rights. _But perhaps I deserve it_, he thought. _After all, this mess is entirely my fault. Remus... I never should have doubted you... if only I could tell you that now..._

Sirius was escorted away from the courthouse by several dementors and Ministry officials. From there, they boarded a boat to take Sirius to Azkaban.

The sea was rough that day, and dark, ominous clouds loomed offshore. The boat headed straight for them. Sirius was bound tightly to a seat on the deck; the dementors still at his side. The Ministry officials stood inside the boat's cabin, with the captain, and watched him, warily. 

For the first time in his entire life, Sirius was afraid for himself. To every witch and wizard in Britain, Azkaban is an extraordinarily horrible place. There are many horror stories told to the children, yet those who have never seen it can not imagine the true terrors of such a place. Sirius feared what existed on that island fortress with all his heart. He didn't want to lose his mind. He was innocent, for God's sake... innocent! He didn't murder those muggles. He didn't kill Peter. Peter killed those muggles, and probably killed himself, for all Sirius knew. On the other hand, Sirius convinced James and Lily to switch himself with Peter for the Fidelius Charm... so he had as good as killed them. _So whatever horror awaits me for the rest of my life is deserved. I wish none of this ever happened._

~*~

__

James and Lily's funeral was the very next day. Remus did not attend. He wasn't ready to face people yet; Sirius's railroad job of a trial was bad enough. For the past two days, Remus had sat in his living room, staring in to the fire, lost in thought. He hadn't eaten, he hadn't slept, he didn't even think that he had moved from the chair in which he sat since he's gotten home from the courthouse. He just stared in to the fire. An owl or two had come rapping at his window, but flew off after he refused to answer. 

Finally, that evening, Remus left his chair, grabbed his cloak, and left the house. He honestly had no real idea where he was headed, but he felt so confined and alone that he needed to just... leave. 

The sun was low in the heavy gray sky; the bitter wind ate in to Remus's face. He walked on. Soon he found himself in a little cemetery outside of Godric's Hollow, standing over the graves of his deceased friends, unaware as to how he had ended up there. He stood quietly for some time, the wind ruffling his cloak and his soft brown hair. 

The wind whipped his face intensely as Remus's tears fell freely. As he looked back and forth between the two fresh graves, he felt a great sob build within him, and after a few moments it was too much. He fell to his knees and clutched the grass with shaking hands as the desperate sobs came. He had no idea where all the tears were coming from; he had never cried so much in his entire life. Not even when his mother died last winter. Not even when he was consumed by pain during his transformations. No, Remus could not remember a feeling worse than this. James and Lily and Peter… dead… and Sirius… in Azkaban, for the rest of his life- for killing them. _Damn him, the bloody traitor! He deserves that place! And poor little Peter… why, why did he go looking for Sirius? He never had a chance! If I had found him first, I would have surely killed him. But what good was I? I was asleep, for God's sake! While my best friends were _dying_, I was sleeping. I'm worthless._ There was an intense ache in his chest, like someone had been carving a hole out of him and had begun pulling his heart out of his body. And then it was too much for him. He curled up on the ground and wept bitterly for hours, until he fell in to a fitful sleep.

~*~

He was running, running as fast as his exhausted legs would carry his weak body, and he was terrified. But he didn't know what he was running from, only that it would be the end of the world if he were to stop and let it catch up to him. He ran and ran, the sky above his head darkening with every heavy footfall, and an icy cold had settled all around him. Then, suddenly, he stopped. He felt his head turn slowly, and his eyes beheld an all too familiar scene. He was at James and Lily's house… but nothing was right… James and Lily lay together on the ground, dead… their house had collapsed around them. He began to scream in horror. Then James raised his head slowly and looked at him, fury in his normally warm eyes. _"How could you? I trusted you,"_ he was saying. _"No, no, James, I swear it, I didn't, I couldn't, noooooooooooo!"_ His screams were so desperate that he didn't recognize them.

But once his mind recognized the hoarse screams, Sirius was jerked awake. He lay, curled in to a fetal position on the filthy floor of his cell in Azkaban, trembling from cold and horror. He was drenched in sweat, and his thin robes weren't enough to block the chill that came from within. And he had the most horrible feeling, as though not only would he never be happy again (_especially being responsible for my best friend's death,_ he thought ruefully), but that he never had been happy before in his life. He couldn't remember a single event in his life that was happy, and it scared him. 

He had heard about this place in his youth, quite a bit. (The teachers had always told him that if he continued his usual mischief, he might, one day, end up in Azkaban. They had been joking, of course, but how did they feel knowing they had been right? Satisfied? Or ashamed to have ever taught him? ) He had heard that the prisoners went mad within weeks. Sometimes days. He had heard that the walls weren't even necessary as long as the dementors were there, to make the prisoners re-live their worst memories constantly. And there was no escape from the hopelessness. But the worst thing about everything he heard was that it was by no means any exaggeration. 

~*~

Peter Pettigrew did regret what he had done. A little. But he did what he had to do, he supposed… After all, Lord Voldemort would have killed him. Now, he did regret his actions. Because now that Lord Voldemort was gone, all of his supporters were blaming him for his downfall. Peter had been living in the sewers for the past several weeks in his Animagus form, not daring to surface as a man for two reasons: one, it was good for the whole world to continue believing the business about Sirius, (seeing as how he himself was supposed to be dead,) and two, the Death Eaters would surely kill him if he showed his face above ground. He didn't want to die. ****

So, here he was, scurrying around with the filth of the sewers, waiting for some interesting news to reach his ratty little ears. 

It really was a shame. James had been so nice to him ever since he'd met him at Hogwarts all those years ago. Sirius had been somewhat annoying, but he was good-hearted for the most part. And Remus had been a good friend, for a werewolf, he supposed. He shook his head. _No, schooldays are over now_, he thought_. You need to forget. Voldemort would have killed you if you hadn't done this, remember?_ Oh, yes, he remembered all too well the fear he felt when the Dark Lord looked at him. Those eyes, those vividly red, menacing eyes, were enough to keep him from sleeping at night sometimes. He remembered the nights when Voldemort was feeling particularly wicked with a shudder. All too often he had been called to stand before the Inner Circle, been questioned contemptuously by the Dark Lord, and then… then Voldemort would finger his wand delicately, as if it were the finest porcelain the world had known, point it straight at Peter's heart, and utter the most horrible word Peter had ever heard… 

"_Crucio."_

The pain that came with the Cruciatus Curse penetrated his very soul. Within half a second he was reduced to a whimpering puddle at the Dark Lord's feet. Spasms of pain would wrack his body, sending shocks up and down his spine. It felt like he was being turned inside out and disemboweled all at once. And burned. And thrown in to a frozen lake. Among other things. It was horrible. The Killing Curse would have been preferable… but the pain stopped eventually. It felt like years, but it did stop. When Voldemort felt that his servant was sufficiently humbled, he moved his wand ever so slightly, just enough to stop the curse, but little enough to make you hold your breath in anxiety in case he cursed you again, which he sometimes did. But now… he didn't really have to worry about that anymore! A rat couldn't be cursed by a Death Eater who couldn't find him! Peter decided that living as a rat until all the Death Eaters forgot about everything might not be so bad, if he found himself a decent wizarding family to live with. He'd have to get right on that. ****

~*~

Rain fell softly in Godric's Hollow early the next morning. Fat droplets splashed upon the blades of grass and darkened the colors of the day. Remus Lupin woke when a particularly fat raindrop splattered on his pale cheek. ****

His eyes were still red from the intense tears he'd shed the night before. The friendly, warm shimmer that had before brightened the stormy gray of his eyes was gone. Now they were a desperate, lonely gray, to match the color of the two gravestones he lay before. He shivered slightly, and drew his soggy cloak about him more tightly as he stood. His weary muscles protested feebly against the sudden strain, but he forced his aching body up. He gazed for several moments at the two graves and sighed deeply. What a way for it all to end… _Everything was so perfect. Now what? Damn Sirius, that bloody traitor. He'll pay for this. If I'd gotten my hands on him before, I'd have killed him. I'm sure of it. I hope wherever he is right now, he's completely miserable. _Remus rubbed at his eyes halfheartedly as he turned to leave. 

"Goodbye, my dear friends. I hope that wherever you are right now, you're at peace," he said softly. He sighed once more as one more tear snuck its way down his cheek, then walked sadly towards home. 

~*~

Remus got his wish, for Sirius was completely miserable where he was right then. He had backed in to the corner of his cell farthest from the door and sunk in to a little ball, knees clutched to his chest with white-knuckled fingers, his eyes screwed tightly shut. If only closing his eyes would keep the horrible images away… But such simple mercies were not available in this place. When he woke up screaming the night before, he knew that, at this rate, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from falling in to despair. True, he had not been able to remember anything good about his life in the past few days, but he found that if he focused on one thing, he still knew who he was: _I am innocent._ When he focused on those three words, he knew who he was, why he was there… and who he betrayed. 

__

Oh, James, Lily, how could I have ever believed that Remus was the one? Why did I convince you to switch? Please, oh, God, I never meant this to happen… Peter was supposed to be trustworthy, that filthy cretin… 

The thoughts ate away at him constantly. What could have been, what had been, and what shouldn't have been. Thinking the same thoughts every waking minute made him feel so desperate and consumed with guilt that he was starting to think it would be better if he just couldn't think or feel at all. At least let the emotions be less severe…

Then it hit him. _Do dementors have any effect on dogs?_ It wouldn't hurt to try, he supposed. This moment of excitement drew the dementors nearer to his cell, however, and he suddenly felt as though he was being smothered. He fought with the despair that threatened to consume him. 

After a minute or so he had mustered up enough strength and magic to transform in to the large, Grimmish dog called Padfoot. It took a remarkable amount of energy to do something he had learned to do without a wand (in case of emergency), and as he slowly lay on the filthy ground he came to the remarkable realization that this wasn't so bad. He was still very cold, but as a dog, he could not feel desperation. Perhaps he would survive long enough for someone to realize his side of the story hadn't ever been heard.


	3. Part III

A few months had gone by when Peter finally found a decent home to live in ****

THINGS FALL APART: Part III/ ?

Disclaimer: JKR owns all the HP stuff. Chinua Achebe's title.

Heartfelt thanks to Iniga, Raven Lady, and Nikki for reviewing Part 2!

A few months had gone by when Peter finally found a decent home to live in. He had scampered throughout England, but every town he managed to end up in had no wizards in it. It would be better, he thought, to live with wizards, for that way, any news of Voldemort would reach him quickly. 

He had made his home with a family full of redheaded wizards: a family with six boys and one more child on the way. The father worked for the Ministry of Magic, perfect for news in the wizarding world, and the two eldest sons attended Hogwarts. The youngest son was almost two. Then came a set of twins, they were five, and another boy, six. Peter had endeared himself to the six-year-old. Sure, this boy was bossy, and a fairly righteous, but he let Peter sit on his shoulder and go wherever the boy went. He was even given a name, Scabbers. A bit strange, if you asked Peter, but it would do. It was a lot better than living in the sewers, not to mention the fact he was guaranteed food. 

The father's name was Arthur. Arthur Weasley. Peter's new boy, Percy, seemed to want to follow in the footsteps of his father, for every night, when Arthur came home, the boy would ask his father what happened at work, and if there was anything left for him to help with. Percy was very eager to hear news of anything interesting in the Ministry. Perhaps one day he would become Minister of Magic… unless He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose again and the world order would be restored. 

Peter couldn't deny that the existing situation looked rather bleak for the Death Eaters. He was just relieved that he was here, sheltered from any Ministry raids. How ironic to be safe from the Ministry while living with an aspiring hopeful Minister. He had heard, while scurrying about the kitchen while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were talking, that the Lestranges had been brought in. Peter remembered the Lestranges well. They were right there, in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, right next to Lucius Malfoy. The most loyal of the Dark Lord's supporters, braving Azkaban for him. Peter didn't know if Azkaban would be preferable to death or not. And he didn't want to die. 

~*~

Sirius lay huddled in the corner of his cell one particularly horrible night. The last few weeks had been very eventful; at least twenty Death Eaters had been thrown in to Azkaban since he'd been here. The Dementors were particularly excited about this, and even though the newcomers provided fresh thoughts for them to feed upon, they didn't leave Sirius alone. Not at all. It seemed that there were even more around him than there had been before. 

Sirius had just woken from another vivid nightmare. His throat was hoarse from the relentless screams that tore from his very soul, and his entire body was numb from cold. He was trembling, and as he drew his knees up to his chest, another wave of desperation flooded his mind. He was going to die in this place. He had gotten his best friend killed. And he had thought that Remus, his only living friend, would betray him. God.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… ohhhhh, please, please, go away, no! God DAMN you, get the HELL AWAY FROM ME!" He shrieked hoarsely. The dementors had sensed his retreat in to despondency and had swarmed around his cell, eager to feed on his terror. "Ohhh, no… no… nooooo! You can't bloody DO this… I'm innocent, I tell, you, INNOCENT, for God's sake!" His voice quieted a bit. "I'm so cold… oh, James, please, please forgive me… Remus, forgive me for doubting you… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" he broke off quietly. Tears of cruel regret ran relentlessly down his dirty face and dripped on to his quivering hands. What was happening to him? He was going to die in this place…

He was pulled from his reverie by the horrible cries of the other prisoners. Another terrible thing about Azkaban was having to listen to the desperation of others. Knowing that there was nothing that you could do to quiet their screams, and again came the feeling of helplessness…

"YOU FOOLS!" Shrieked the first voice. "You think you can keep us in here! The Dark Lord will come for us! He rewards his followers! He is not gone forever! He will rise again, I tell you! Again! Just wait! You will regret the day you threw us in here, Cornelius Fudge, I promise you!" the voice carried on until the dementors surrounded it. Slowly, the cries diminished… the Death Eater was probably huddled, trembling, in the corner of his cell, muttering to himself. 

Slowly, Sirius pulled himself to stand on weak legs. How had he become so thin? When? He hadn't noticed it before now. He could feel his ribs through the thin fabric of his robes, every one of them, poking out from beneath the skin of his chest. He lifted his fingers to touch his face, and could feel that his cheeks were hollowed out. God. What was happening to him? He was going to die in this place…

~*~

Remus sat before the fire in his living room, his feet propped on an ottoman. He seemed to have been swallowed up by the bulky armchair in which he sat; several pillows rested at his sides, and beneath the huge book he rested on his lap. Remus spent many nights like this, reading before the fire. Since the fall of the Dark Lord (among other things), he hadn't had much of a reason to work for Dumbledore. The Ministry was rounding up countless Death Eaters weekly, and they didn't want his help. He was, after all, a werewolf. So he spent his nights alone, studying interesting tidbits of information from countless books. 

Remus loved to read. Nothing made him feel more satisfied these days than learning. He had accumulated quite a library over the years, full of all sorts of fascinating volumes, ranging in subject matter from magical theory to muggle science. He had always considered himself a scholar, when none of his friends were around to talk him in to breaking in to the kitchens at Hogwarts. 

The faded, worn book that lay in his lap at the moment was a selection of essays on Dark creatures. Remus supposed that he had kind of a sick fascination with them… after all, he was a Dark Creature himself… no matter how much he despised being a werewolf, he would always yearn to learn more about his "fellow creatures," as many of the bigots in the world would say.

But no matter how insatiable his thirst for knowledge was, he could not deny that the real reason he had sat, reading, before this fire for so many months was that he needed something to keep his mind off of Lily and James. And Peter. And _Sirius._ _For God's sake, they were my best friends, I can grieve,_ said one side of his mind. But the other said, harshly, _you've been grieving for the last nine months. Isn't it time to let it go?_ Let it go? If only it were that easy.

In one night, he had lost everything. His entire world had fallen apart. The only people who had shared his secret, and accepted it, and even embraced it, had disappeared from this earth forever. When he had met James, Sirius, and Peter at Hogwarts, his life had changed so drastically there was a time when he could not imagine what life could be like without them. Now he knew. He couldn't have imagined how difficult this was. Not a day had passed when he didn't think of them… when he wasn't torn apart inside by thoughts of Sirius… His best friend…

He still found it hard to stomach that Sirius Black had betrayed James Potter. If there was one truth in the world, Sirius was James' and Remus' best friend. But Remus knew that once the world had fallen apart, truths ceased to exist. Just like his happiness. But there had been so many witnesses… and Sirius had been James and Lily's Secret Keeper… but it was so inconceivable that Sirius, his best friend, for God's sake, would have done such a thing! What had happened? The world had come crashing down… And even after all this time, the wound was still deep, the damage was still devastating. _Oh, God…_

A few thick tears fell on the tattered pages of the book on Remus' lap.

~*~

He was running again, but this time he knew what was behind him. He knew where he was going. Before his eyes appeared an all too familiar scene, one he had visioned every day. And every time the smoke cleared, he saw the ruins of his best friend's house, and as he looked down he saw his own hands, stained with blood. And he still ran, in to the house. He knew what was in there by now; he had been there so many times… In the front hall lay the body of his best friend, in the back, the body of his best friend's wife. And the Dark Mark in the sky. Every time he saw this, the ground below him fell sharply away and his heart was suddenly in his throat. And there was nothing he could do. His hands were bloody. 

Even in sleep, tears ran freely down Sirius Black's face. He clutched his knees tightly to his chest, and he sobbed, mourning the deaths of his best friends. 

"It's my fault! It's all my fault! No, noooo, you don't understand… James, oh God… James… no… must understand… Please… NO!" Sirius tossed fitfully on the cold ground, unaware of anything but the horrible scene that repeated, over and over in his mind, night after terrible night. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. There were dementors outside his door every second of the day. 


	4. Part IV

As the years passed, Remus slowly began to develop a new life for himself ****

Things Fall Apart, Part IV

By StickPegasus

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I'm not making any money. If there's any question, see the disclaimers in the other chapters.

A/N: I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go with this, but I think I've got it figured out now. If you notice a slight difference in style near the middle of this chapter, congratulations, you're observant! I actually wrote that part before I even started this particular story, and decided that it would fit in here somehow. I hope some of the statements aren't too repetitive. 

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! You guys make me happy. J 

Now, on with the story…

As the years passed, Remus slowly began to develop a new life for himself. He had rarely stayed in one town for long, fearing that someone would discover his secret. So, he moved from town to town, taking temporary teaching positions in local schools… that is, until someone read between the lines of his monthly absences. Then he would resign, and move on. 

It seemed to Remus that he had, finally, really begun to heal. He had some semblance of a life. While he still spent his evenings reading before the fire (his library was now quite impressive), he didn't feel as lonely. He had met all sorts of fascinating people in the past few years. But despite this, he knew he didn't have any friends. He didn't actually believe that he could ever really make friends again. He was too afraid of losing them. 

**But the people he did meet made his life fairly interesting. He had gotten rid of a boggart for his ancient neighbor last week, and she was definitely an eccentric. Once he had finished with the boggart, she had insisted on his staying for tea and discussing why crystal balls frightened him so. (The boggart, when it saw her, had turned in to a wad of chewing gum.) And he had met one man in town the other day who had insisted upon Remus helping him pick out a pair of socks from a department store window. Very odd, these people were. Kept Remus on his toes. **

Tonight, Remus sat in front of the fire again, thinking about the interesting turn his life had taken in the past few months. Before he had moved to this small town near Land's End, he had lived for a short time in Wales, and had only lasted a month before his neighbor had asked him about his lycanthropy. As was customary to Remus by that time, he had left town the very next day, tattered briefcase in hand. 

The cottage in which he now lived was atop a grassy knoll at the edge of a large wood. Ivy grew profusely along the white stucco walls and had begun to creep up the chimney and on to the roof. On clear days, while standing on the tiny front porch, Remus could look south and see the ocean. To the north and east lay the wood, and to the west was the town. 

Today was a gloomy, sullen Sunday; heavy clouds hung ominously in the sky, and the air was thick with the buzz of storm. Remus sat on the front porch and gazed vaguely at the darkening sky, waiting not only for the rain to come but also for the moon to rise, in a few hours. Tonight, the moon would be full. 

**Remus didn't need a lunar chart to know that the full moon was tonight. He didn't even need his instincts of time, which told him it had been twenty-eight days since the last full moon. All he needed was the dull ache that had spread slowly throughout his body and had, over the past two days, escalated to a semi-dull, insistent one. In a few hours, a full-fledged monster would replace the mild, controlled man living in the cottage at the edge of the wood. As soon as the moon rose.**

**He sat quietly for several hours, his heightened senses taking in every sound, every smell they could. The rain had begun to fall heavily, and the wind was beginning to pick up, as nightfall came ever closer. Slowly, Remus rose from his chair on the porch and went inside the cottage, through the warm front room, down the hall, and in to the spare room at the back of the house. He had cast strengthening charms earlier that week on every inch of the room, and now proceeded to lock himself inside. **

He deposited his wand in the bottom drawer of the desk by the window, for safekeeping. Then he removed his worn robes and folded them neatly, laying them in the drawer on top of his wand. And then he stood, waiting, in the center of the room, for the moon to rise. 

**Torrents of rain battered the cottage roof, the wind whipped roughly, howling, around the corners of the house. Remus thought, vaguely, of how fortunate he was to be inside tonight, as the pain in his body grew steadily sharper. **

The transformation came upon him suddenly as the moon rose in to the night sky, behind its screen of clouds and rain. Intense pain gripped his slender body and forced a heavy moan from his throat. He could feel every bone, every vein, every muscle in his body shift, and the pain still increased. He sunk to the floor, biting back screams of pain as he did so. 

His spine was on fire as it stretched and rearranged itself, his slender hands became coarse and wolfish, and sharp claws jutted fiercely from his fingertips. He now lay, shuddering, on the ground, drawing great gasping breaths, and all the while his hoarse screams became less human. His shrieks became more and more feral until their timbre had changed completely, and were replaced with fierce growls and occasional chilling howls of agony. 

His body had lost all of its human characteristics. Now, upon the rug in the spare room, lay a fully-grown werewolf, panting in exhaustion. After several moments, the wolf took to prowling the room, searching for a way out. The wet nose could smell no prey nearby, and it yearned to get out and hunt.

And the rain lashed relentlessly upon the windows of the cottage.

~*~

**Watery moonlight spilled in increments through the barred window of the cell, and shone weakly across the floor, before being swallowed up in the darkness. The shafts of light shifted eerily as thick clouds and mist began to obscure the moon completely from view. The figure of a man, huddled in the corner of his cell, was once again shrouded in darkness, darkness equal to that in the deep recesses of his mind. **

The gaunt figure held his face in quivering hands that trembled not only from intense cold, but also from perpetual fear. For weeks now there had been no reprieve from his fear, he was too weak to transform in to the huge black dog and dilute his emotions. So he retreated to this corner to focus on the one thought that could keep him sane… the one thought, the only thought, that the dementors had no chance of taking away… _I am innocent._

All of a sudden, Sirius Black shuddered violently. A wave of fierce cold had swept through his cell; a fresh dementor had taken post outside his cell. His jaw clenched in dread, he focused all of his energy on the three words that would be his lifeline… _I am innocent._

The night became darker as it continued to creep through Sirius's own private hell. The screams began in the cells around him, and Sirius moved his skeletal hands from his haggard face to cover his ears. Piercing shrieks blended with hoarse yells until it all became too much for Sirius, and he fell, exhaustedly, in to a fitful sleep. But no matter how exhausted he was when he succumbed to sleep, he was never rested when he woke.

Dreams laced his sleep every night, vivid, horrible nightmares that continued for hours because his mind could no longer force him to wake. They drained him of every ounce of control and he screamed, screamed in agony and fear and grief for his friends. Sometimes he woke because the horrors of his sleep were too much for him, drenched in sweat and tears, but more often than not he was not able to wake himself. All because of the dementors. 

So he sat, entombed in hell, for years on end, finding relief only when he was strong enough to transform. Waiting for absolution that he knew would never come. And thick fog loomed on the horizon, drawing nearer and nearer every second.

~*~

Dawn broke, behind a thick cover of cloud, when the moon sank below the mountains to the west the next chilly morning. Remus lay, quivering, on the rug in his spare room. His body ached fiercely. He took several gasping breaths before he was able to finally control the pain. Then, when he could no longer stand the cold, he dragged himself up off the floor and to the desk, pulled his robes and wand from the drawer, and dressed himself slowly. He reached for the doorknob and turned it with a shaking hand. Then he shuffled along the hall to the kitchen, his weary body protesting with every aching step. He collapsed in to a chair at the quaint kitchen table, and, with a wave of his wand, put the teakettle on to boil.

He rubbed exhaustedly at his swollen eyelids and scrubbed a hand through his hair. When the tea was ready, he Summoned it from the counter and breathed the smell of it deep in to his lungs. He sipped it carefully, letting the hot liquid run down his hoarse throat and in to his belly, warming his body.

**He lit a fire in the living room fireplace and moved to sit before it. As the flames licked at the edges of the firewood, Remus could hear the wind as it continued to whistle through the trees. He couldn't remember whether or not the storm had let up last night. Hell, he couldn't remember half of last night itself. His mind seemed to have blocked it out again, as it often did during his transformations. Although, Remus supposed that the wolf mind inhabited a separate, forbidden corner of his human mind, and the wolf's experiences were stored there. Remus had yet to figure out how to retrieve them.**

Fat raindrops splattered the windowpanes of the cottage while the fire crackled hospitably before Remus, but he felt neither comfortable nor cozy. He hurt. His head was throbbing with every beat of his pulse, and every bone felt as though he had been put on the rack. His aching muscles protested his every movement. And he was exhausted. 

As much as Remus would have liked to sit in his old chair, curled up in front of the fire, all day, he could not. He needed to go in to town, for he had made an appointment to help a shopkeeper get rid of a boggart in the basement, and should get going. He pulled himself from his chair and began what would be years of teaching locals how to defend themselves from Dark creatures. 

~*~

The fog had lifted, yet the moonlight was still feeble, and the stars were unable to penetrate the darkness around Azkaban. A haggard man crouched in the corner of his cell, staring out the window in to the deep black of the sky. He shook from cold, and from fear, his skeletal frame covered in twelve years of filth and grime. His long hair hung limply past his shoulders. And his eyes had lost the sparkle they had once kept.

The dementor outside his cell had left momentarily, only to be replaced by another. It glided toward the man's cell and looked, as it were (dementors are blind), directly at the man, who stared back in horror. 

It was those moments in which the dementors changed shifts that allowed this man some type of relief. Before his imprisonment, he'd thought that he had been afraid. But nothing, NOTHING outside these walls could ever have prepared him for the horror within. The relentless feeling of utter helplessness that ate away at his soul every waking hour, and the horrible nightmares that filled his restless sleep each and every night. Not to mention the awful screams that came from the surrounding cells. The man was sure he made the same sounds as he slept. He had woken from too many horrible dreams to deny it.

~*~

The small passenger craft rocked violently on the rough sea as it carried Minister Fudge and a few of his associates to Azkaban for the yearly inspection. Periodically one of the younger men leaned far over the side of the craft, then turned, eyes screwed shut, and sat huddled in the corner of the pilot's cabin, a sickly green tint to his chubby features. The Minister of Magic was used to the rough trip by now, and was not so affected. 

Finally, the fortress appeared, dark and mysterious through the thick fog. The craft pulled up carefully to the battered dock and the Minister and his associates disembarked. They climbed the steep path up to the doors of the fortress, where they were met by several dementors. The chubby young man, who was still rather green, immediately became quite a bit more apprehensive upon entry.

As they entered the fortress, the men were hit with an extreme feeling of dread. Fudge walked ahead, with the dementors, while his associates followed. 

The dementors led the men to the office of the Director, a gnarled little man with glittering black eyes. 

"Hello, Minister, how are you this-er- lovely morning?"

"I am quite well, thank you, Dr. Blithesbane. Did you see the Prophet this morning? The Cannons lost to the Wasps," he held out the front page for the little man to read.

"Yes, Minister, I've already read it. Got to keep up on my current events, you know... If not for such things I'd probably go quite mad. Well, more so than already. One would have to be quite unsound to take a job like this, eh?" Dr. Blithesbane had a curious and somewhat unsettling grin on his face.

"Yes, Doctor, I see your point. Well, let's get started with this, shall we?" Fudge turned to his associates and said, "If you'd like, you may remain here and owl the office for me, to let them know we've arrived," to which the men agreed readily. Fudge and Dr. Blithesbane left the office with the dementors and marched down a flight of dank steps. 

"We'll start with the low- security this morning, all right, sir? You wouldn't want to have to stomach the high security prisoners at such an early hour, I'm afraid." The Doctor still had that grin on his face. Fudge nodded in agreement.

The tour continued quite uneventfully, well, as uneventfully as such a tour could continue. They climbed higher and higher in the fortress, passing cell upon cell of captured Death Eaters and the like. Most of them sat, muttering to themselves, in the corners of their cells, blank looks on their faces. 

As they approached the cell of Sirius Black, the dementors outside his cell parted, allowing for a look inside. Black, his filthy hair hanging limply past his shoulders, stood to greet them.

"Hello, Minister," Black croaked. His voice was scratchy from so much screaming. 

"Er, hello, Black..." said a somewhat startled Fudge. 

Black spied the newspaper tucked under Fudge's arm, the headline "Cannons Lose to Wasps" emblazoned upon the front page in bold letters. "Have you finished with your newspaper? I- I miss doing the crossword."

"Oh, erm, sure, be my guest," Fudge handed Sirius the newspaper. 

"Thank you," he said. "So, uh, anything interesting happening in the world that I should, as a high security prisoner, be aware of?" He almost cracked a smile as he made this remark. 

"Oh, the usual. You know. Been pretty quite lately. I'm sure the Prophet will catch you up."

"I doubt, sir, that this newspaper would fill me in on twelve years, but I thank you all the same." 

"Shall we continue, Minister?" Asked Dr. Blithesbane. 

"Yes, let's. Goodbye, Black." They walked off.

Fudge looked at Blithesbane. "How does he do it? He's been under heavy guard for twelve years, and he's not- he's - well, he seems almost _normal_. I don't get it. Shouldn't he be huddled in the corner, drooling, talking to himself rather than asking the visiting Minster for the crossword puzzle?"

"I'm not quite sure, sir. You-Know-Who must have performed some sort of impenetrable protection charm on him; perhaps even the dementors can't get past it. He's a singularly rare case. I've never seen anything quite so remarkable in all my life, and believe me, I've seen many remarkable things."

"If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can shield his supporters from the dementors, he must have been far more powerful than we had ever imagined... Thank Gods we have seen the last of him."

~*~

Sirius Black sat in the corner of his cell, Prophet in hand. He'd read the front-page stories already and had now flipped to the next page, where it was announced that the Weasley family had won the thousand Galleons in the Prophet's contest. There was a picture of the whole family, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley smiling kindly in back, and their seven children in front of them. _How cute, the smallest boy has his pet rat on his shoulder... _Sirius glanced again at the photograph, more closely this time. _Dear God._ He stared in astonishmentat the rat's front paw. It had a toe missing. _Peter Pettigrew. Is. Not. Dead._ "Five of the Weasley children will be attending Hogwarts this year," said the article. _He's at Hogwarts. I must get him. I've GOT to get him. That filthy rat sold my best friends to Voldemort... Almost had my godson killed... He's at Hogwarts._

These freshly awakened thoughts did not go unnoticed by the dementors. They sensed that Sirius was taking a stroll down memory lane, and several of them surrounded his cell. 

An intense cold swept over Sirius, a cold that had merely been overlooked while his mind had something else with which to occupy itself. All of a sudden his mind was transported back, twelve years ago, to that horriblenight when he knelt over the body of his best friend, sobbing fiercely... "oh, James, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... this is all my fault... I never... oh, God..." Sirius dissolved in to bitter tears as the memories returned. He cried until he fell into a fitful exhausted sleep.

~*~

Minister Fudge and Dr. Blithesbane concluded the inspection just as sleep was beginning to overtake those prisoners nearest the Doctor's office. By the time the two men arrived back in the office to collect Fudge's associates, several rather chilling screams could be heard coming from the surrounding cells, much to the dismay of the weak stomached men on the trip. 

Fudge led the way out of the fortress, he wasn't kidding anyone... he was just as glad to get out of there as the next guy. They climbed aboard the small craft for the long journey back to the mainland, where they would then Apparate to London.

~*~

The thick fog enveloped the fortress; the damp cold penetrated Sirius' very soul. His face was stained with bitter tears, and the muscles beneath his dirty skin were tense even in sleep. For sleep is only restful on the nights in which there are no nightmares, and as long as dementors stood outside of Sirius' cell door, there would be nightmares. For perhaps an hour after succumbing to exhaustion Sirius would sleep quietly, then the dreams would hit. Horrible dreams, more often vivid than vague, but tonight's was indistinct. He lay, curled in to a tight ball, on the solid rock floor, his eyes twitching back and forth relentlessly beneath their heavy lids, searching for relief. He mumbled indistinctly, quietly, for several moments before the desperate screams erupted from the depths of his soul. Perhaps this would continue for hours, perhaps he would awaken himself with his own screams, he never knew. All Sirius knew was that there was no one here to help him, no one here to shake him awake when the screams began. 

The misery never leaves the prisoners of Azkaban. Some may find meager

relief as the dementors continue down the halls, some live for those spare seconds when the dementors change shifts; that is, those who are capable of forming coherent thoughts inside their troubled minds. Sirius fought these intense bouts of anguish as an Animagus. Since dementors are blind, they did not notice his transformation in to the huge dog know to few as Padfoot. While in his canine form, Sirius' thoughts were far less complex; those intense emotions were subdued so he could maintain some of the sheds of control. Often after a long night of nightmares, Sirius would transform, to help clear his head a bit. If he had the strength. 

It was the next morning after Fudge's visit that Sirius was hit by a stunning thought: Harry Potter was old enough to be at Hogwarts now. Harry, the son of his best friend, his own godson, was at Hogwarts. Where Peter was. _I have to get to him. James, I swear to you, I will protect your son. I've failed as his godfather so far... if it weren't for me he wouldn't even need a godfather... I have to make it up to you, James, and Lily. And Harry. ......He's at Hogwarts......_

The thought occurred to Sirius, seriously, for the first time since he'd been locked up, that he could find a way to escape. The only sane human on this bloody island was Dr. Blithesbane. _It shouldn't be too terribly difficult to get past him_. And the dementors are blind. "If I were to rush past them as a dog, it would confuse the hell out of them," Sirius thought to himself. 

So a week or so later, when the night was darkest, Sirius transformed in to the huge black wolfhound. As the dementors changed shifts he slipped through the bars of his cell, his skeletal frame being an easy fit, and ran like hell through the narrow corridor and down several flights of stairs. He had no idea where the doors of the fortress were; however, some sort of instinct enabled him to find his way outside. 

The dog loped toward the narrow path that led to the dock. When he finally reached it, he took one look at the dark sea, sniffed the crisp air deep in to his lungs, and plunged in to the choppy, cold water. 

The frigid water hit him like a thousand knives slashing at his weak body. He forced his legs to pull his body through the water, as far away from Hell as he could possibly get. 

The dog swam for what must have been hours. The moon had risen and set, and the coldness that was dawn had begun to set in the air. At last, his wearied eyes spotted land; he swam for it reverently. When his paws finally hit sand, he dragged his exhausted body out of the sea and up on to land, across a sandy beach and on to a large rock, where he collapsed. 

He awoke several hours later with a strange warmth upon his aching body. He opened his eyes slowly only to shut them again, violently, as the bright rays of sunlight hit his dark- accustomed eyes. The Sun. Light, for the first time in nearly twelve years. For a fleeting moment all the weight of his soul was lifted by the enormity of this discovery. No more shadows. No more dementors. 


	5. Part V

THINGS FALL APART, PART V ****

THINGS FALL APART, PART V

By StickPegasus

A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I was on vacation and didn't have my computer with me. I wrote over vacation but couldn't post. ;) Thanks SO much to everyone who reviewed Part IV, even after my shameless plea on the message boards… 

Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowling's. I've used some dialog from an overlapping scene in Prisoner of Azkaban, I'm sure you can spot it, and I do NOT claim it nor make money off of it, no matter how much I'd like to own it… 

And now, without further ado…

"MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY!" Read that morning's Daily Prophet. Remus glanced at the byline, Rita Skeeter, and wondered what sort of scathing remarks she'd made in this edition. He rarely took her articles seriously. In fact, he was on the way to ignoring this one as he Summoned his teacup from the counter- until he saw the subheading. 

"Ruthless murderer Sirius Black escapes Azkaban."

Remus choked violently on his tea and sent a mouthful splattering across the kitchen table. Not only did that detail shock him, it angered him as well. Sirius Black had been one of his closest friends. And he had been sent to Azkaban for the murder of his other best friends. He had been in league with Voldemort, and he had escaped. No person in wizard history had ever escaped Azkaban; no one was sane enough. All of the prisoners went mad within weeks- but Sirius had been in Azkaban for twelve years. And he had escaped.

Remus drew a shaky breath as he regained his composure. How could this be possible? How? How?! He wiped several drops of tea off of his newspaper and began to read the article.

"The Ministry of Magic has blundered once again. The highly dangerous criminal, Sirius Black, right hand man to You-Know-Who during the Reign of Darkness, slipped through the fingers of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when he escaped from Azkaban last night. The magical community has been put on full alert.

"But alas, that is not the only bollix that the Ministry has made today. Now the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has asked the Muggle Prime Minister for assistance in apprehending Black. 

"Black is believed to be armed and highly dangerous. Involving the muggle community would only endanger them. It is this reporter's firm belief that Black will not hesitate in killing again; after all, he killed twelve muggles and a wizard with a single curse before he was sent to Azkaban twelve years ago. Cornelius Fudge has declined comment, however unwisely, on that particular subject. 

"Anyone with any knowledge of Black is asked to contact the Ministry offices immediately, by owl, so that any further poor decisions by the Minister may be averted."

Remus glanced at the photograph of Sirius, taken the day he had murdered Peter. He was between two Magical Law Enforcement wizards, and he was laughing, with no mirth in his deep black eyes. He appeared to be quite insane. 

The caption beneath the photograph read: "No recent photographs have been taken of Black. He is described by Dr. Blithesbane, Director of Azkaban, as having long, stringy black hair, a very gaunt frame, and considerably more sunken features than in this photograph. Any information of his whereabouts should be immediately owled to the Ministry Office of Magical Law Enforcement."

Remus slowly laid his paper on the table and stared, still shocked, at the subheading. It seemed that Fudge had not yet figured out how he had managed to escape. 

_I should tell them he's an Animagus,_ Remus thought. But as he reached for parchment and a quill, he hesitated. _That would mean telling the whole story, and how I was involved… and then Dumbledore would know I betrayed his trust… _He clasped his hands together. _He must have used Dark Magic he learned from Voldemort to escape. Yes, that's it. A Dark shield charm would have concealed him… and Voldemort would have some way to guard his right-hand man from dementors. _Much more satisfied with this line of reasoning, Remus proceeded to clear up the spilled tea and pour himself another cup.

The next day, after breakfast, someone knocked on Remus's front door. Puzzled, he went to the door, and opened it to find Albus Dumbledore standing on his front porch. The elder man's beard twitched as his lips curved in to a smile, and his piercing blue eyes sparkled behind his half-moon spectacles. 

"Hello, Remus," he said. 

"P-Professor Dumbledore! What brings you here?" Remus asked, surprised.

"Actually, I came to ask a rather considerable favor of you, Remus. And please, call me Albus, you haven't been a student for over fifteen years!" The Headmaster's eyes sparkled jovially. 

"Well, come in, then, sir; please," Remus held the door open and Dumbledore entered the house.

"I have to admit, Remus, I've had a difficult time finding you. You don't seem to stay put for long, do you?" He grinned.

"Well, no, sir- considering my circumstances, I try not to stay anywhere for long."

"Your –er- circumstances, as you call them," said Dumbledore pointedly, "are not as damning as you believe. I had hoped that you had overcome your attempts at self-degradation. God knows you get enough of it from others."

Remus, uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken, suddenly found the floor rather fascinating.

"But I digress," said Dumbledore. "I've come to ask your help."

Remus looked up and eyed his old headmaster questioningly.

"I'll get straight to the point. I need a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and I believe that you are a wonderful choice-"

"But sir, I'm a-"

"And that you will perform admirably. Your marks in that particular subject, as I recall, were phenomenal, and you've always had the ideal mentality for teaching." He paused for a moment, looking at Remus. "Would it help if I told you I won't take no for an answer?"

"Sir, I- I really can't-" he began. 

"Of course you can! I know, for a fact, that you have no obligations here."

"That's not the problem- it's not safe," he said.

"Believe me, Remus, I am aware of your 'circumstances,' and had I thought that they would be a problem, I would not have come to you. Severus Snape can prepare the Wolfsbane Potion for you for the full moons."

"Wolfsbane Potion?" 

"A rather new development. As I understand, it suppresses a werewolf's urge to kill. You'll be able to curl up in your office as a harmless wolf all night, and wait for the moon to wane. It seems that it helps you keep your mind."

Remus was surprised at this information. A way to control the wolf? But he still demurred. There were never any guarantees anymore…

"Remus… we need someone at Hogwarts who meets the qualifications. I can't think of anyone better for this job than you are."

"Don't you find it ironic, sir, that a Dark creature teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? I'm the very thing the students are learning to defend themselves from!"

"Remus, you are nearly the most calm, controlled person that I've ever met. Your self-control is remarkable. You were the first werewolf ever to go to Hogwarts, and I do not regret my decision to admit you. I've never doubted your ability.

"I need another strong hand on deck," he continued. "We have reason to believe that Sirius Black will try to enter Hogwarts-"

"Sirius?! Why?"

"It seems that he wants to get at Harry Potter. The guards have reported him talking in his sleep, very insistently, a bit before his escape. He kept saying 'He's at Hogwarts.'" 

Remus's mouth went dry. Of course! Harry Potter would be old enough to go to Hogwarts by now…_I would get to see him again_… "And you think he… wants to… finish off the last Potter?"

"It seems that way." Dumbledore paused. "Although I always had a hard time accepting the fact that he would want to finish off the Potters," he added thoughtfully.

Remus nodded noncommittally to this; however, in his mind, a conflicting jumble of thoughts and emotions fought to break loose. He'd never honestly believed that Sirius had been working for Voldemort, or that he'd sold Lily and James to him, either. But there really wasn't any question, for he had been Secret Keeper…

"So?" asked Dumbledore.

"So… I don't know, sir, it's too much of a risk to the students."

"Sometimes risks have to be taken for the greater good. You have a gift for teaching, Remus, I know it's there. And the passion for learning. I have no doubt that you can do this."

"Well, all right, sir… but I'm still concerned."

"I knew you would be. That's why you're perfect for this position." Dumbledore's cobalt eyes twinkled brightly. "Seeing as how the moon is full on the 31st of August, you'll probably be more comfortable riding the Hogwarts Express on the First?"

Remus nodded.

"Good. I thought so. I also would feel more comfortable having you aboard… the dementors are bound to search the train for Sirius."

"All right, sir. I imagine, then, that I shall see you on the First?"

"Yes. Now, I'm afraid I must be going. I have some other business to attend to. I will see you later, Professor Lupin." Dumbledore grinned.

Remus had to admit, he liked the sound of "Professor Lupin." Especially coming from Dumbledore.

~*~

An enormous, shaggy black dog trotted south across the moor with incredible determination. One would think he had a purpose; that is, if dogs had purposes. Impossibly thin, nearly every bone in his body was visible. It was clear that he was utterly exhausted, his tongue lolled from beneath his sagging jowls and the lilt of his stride was gone. 

Soon, he reached a wood, with a stream running through it. He glanced up and down for any sign of life, then sniffed the air. All clear. With a whirl of wizard's robes, the dog transformed in to an emaciated man. The effort took a lot out of him, and he sank to his knees before the water. He cupped his hands to drink from the stream, then splashed himself with water and scrubbed futilely at his filthy face and hands. He sighed deeply. It was such a relief to be here. No more claustrophobia. No more penetrating cold. And finally, finally, he could sit and just think about innocent nothing; for so long, his thoughts had been tainted by horrors that had made great gaping wounds in his mind. The wounds had not by any means begun to heal (he wondered how many years it would take before they began to scar over). But it was such a relief that the horror was no longer constant. 

He found that he would often, when he sat thinking, find his mind drifting back to that little cell, and he would torture himself with his own thoughts as he began to pace. He supposed, when he reflected upon this, that his mind was so accustomed to thinking this way that he's developed a horrible habit. Perhaps, when the scars began to form, that habit would break.

Dark clouds had begun to gather overhead; thunder growled in the distance; once the first fat drops of rain began to fall, Sirius began to look for a dry place to spend the night. He transformed once again in to the shaggy black dog and curled up beneath the broad branches of a tree, and as the rain fell in sheets around his sheltered spot, he fell exhaustedly asleep. 

The rain fell in torrents as the night wore on, and beneath meager shelter, the dog slept fitfully. Even heavy exhaustion could not keep his nightmares away, his legs twitched, and he had begun to whine softly. His whimpers grew steadily louder, but were still drowned out by the storm. And the night wore on.

~*~

One bright morning in the middle of August, Ron Weasley strode down the hall from his bedroom, down the stairs, and in to the kitchen, where his mother was bustling about the stove. His pet rat, a hand-me-down from his brother Percy, sat lazily on his shoulder. As he pulled up a chair at the kitchen table, his mother handed him a plate of toast and marmalade. His father sat across from him a spoke a bright greeting from behind that morning's Daily Prophet. 

Through a mouthful of toast, Ron thanked his mother and greeted his father. He could hear his brothers, Fred and George, outside, de-gnoming the garden. [They had passed an exploding wand off on Mrs. Weasley the evening before, and it had singed her favorite apron, so she sent them out to de-gnome early this morning.] 

Ron munched his toast happily and his rat, Scabbers, scurried off his shoulder. Ron snuck him a bite of toast. 

"Ron, don't feed that rat on my table!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. Ron had thought she hadn't seen, and at times like this, she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head. 

Scabbers peered curiously at Mr. Weasley.

~*~

Peter chewed his not-so-secret bite of toast and walked across the table to snatch a peek at Mr. Weasley's newspaper.

"MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY!" it read. _Hmm, _he thought. _Ah, Rita Skeeter. She is rather amusing._ Then he read the subheading.

"Ruthless murderer Sirius Black escapes Azkaban!" _Dear God. Oh no. This is it. I'm going to die. _Sirius was going to come after him and kill him, like he'd tried to so many years before; only this time he knew Peter's tricks. And he was probably rather insane and… er… disgruntled, and would succeed. _Damned Sirius, he was always bloody succeeding._

Peter didn't want to die. So he worried, and he waited; waited for Sirius to come and kill him.

~*~

The full moon on the night of the 31st of August was exceptionally hard on Remus, mainly because he was worried and angry about Sirius. When he woke after sunrise from a scant hour of sleep once the moon had set, Remus felt so sore and exhausted that he was contemplating just not going. But he'd made a promise, and he decided, in the end, that he should keep it; so he dragged his haggard body up from the floor, dressed, and gathered his things. He piled his frayed, patched robes in to his tattered briefcase and Apparated to London.

Crossing the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross brought back many memories that Remus had tried so hard to forget. Seeing the children boarding the Hogwarts Express, watching concerned parents bustling about… it made him feel like it was twenty years ago and he was off to school. But this time, it was different.

Remus discretely boarded the train and entered an empty compartment at the rear. He placed his old briefcase in the luggage rack and sat heavily in a seat below the window. In minutes, his exhaustion caught up with him, and he was fast asleep.

~*~

Sirius had traveled south very quickly. He knew it was nearly time for the Hogwarts Express to pick the students up at King's Cross, just a few days more, and he desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of his godson. His godson. Goodness. He hadn't seen him since that night, twelve years ago, when he'd taken him in his arms, weeping, and said goodbye… God. He hadn't been much of a godfather. And poor little Harry was, he assumed, still living with Petunia and old What's-his-name. Some godfather he was. Just one more thing in life for him to screw up.

The night was dark, most everyone in town was asleep. But as he trotted along Magnolia Crescent, he heard a commotion. There was a kid with messy black hair dragging a trunk and… an owl down the street. He crept closer to get a better look, and when he saw the kid's face, he almost passed out. It was a miniature version of James… but with Lily's stunningly green eyes. God. It was he. James' and Lily's son… dear God…

As he fought to keep at bay those brutal memories of that night twelve years ago, Harry turned and spotted him. Startled, he fell over his trunk, and just as he fell to the ground, the Knight Bus appeared behind him. Sirius watched him get on, then watched the bus until it was completely out of sight.

He had to get to Peter, before Peter got to Harry. He had to do _something_ right, for once. He'd had enough of letting people down.

~*~

Peter slept on in Ron's breast pocket while all the excitement of leaving for Hogwarts bustled about him. He really didn't notice much of anything, he was so tired. He hadn't slept well since he'd heard about Sirius, and his nerves were completely shot. He'd lost quite a bit of weight. Not to mention that damned cat of Hermione's was trying to eat him… perhaps it worked for Sirius. 

When he woke, he poked his little rat face out and peeked around at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and- someone else he didn't know. A sleeping man, haggard… he wondered whom it was, adults didn't usually ride the train. He looked closer at the exhausted man's face, at the dark circles beneath his eyes… Jesus Christ, it was Remus. God, if he noticed, if he remembered… Remus knew what he looked like as a rat…

He retreated to the security of Ron's pocket.

~*~

Remus woke abruptly when the train stopped moving. For a moment or so, he was quite disoriented, all the confusion in the compartment threw him off. As he gathered his bearings, he realized that they could not possibly be at Hogwarts yet, so this must be what Dumbledore had warned him about. Dementors.

"Quiet!" he said, in a sleep-roughened voice. "Stay where you are," he added absently to the students around him. He quickly conjured a handful of flickering blue flames, which illuminated several confused faces. He was about to reach a hand out and open the door when he felt the unmistakable chill of a dementor's presence. As he drew his wand, the door slid open, and a dementor glided inside. 

The compartment grew deathly cold as the dementor extended a scabbed hand. Remus heard the students gasp, felt the shiver go through them, and then heard a loud thud. He pointed his wand at the dementor and said, "none of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go."

Nothing happened. The dementor turned its hooded face from student to student, its breath rattled beneath the inky black hood, slowly. Remus raised his wand again, more adamantly this time, and summoned all of his strength and resolve to focus on something happy. "Expecto patronum," he murmured. A silvery cloud sprang from the tip of his wand and hovered in front of the dementor, which backed out of the door, turned, and left. 

A moment later, the lights flickered back on. One of the students had collapsed, and two were bent closely over him. He had unruly black hair and- a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. It _couldn't_ be… could it?

One of the students crouching over him slapped his face and shouted, "Harry!"

God. It _was_ he. As Remus stepped closer, he got a good look at his face. He was the absolute spitting image of James. The resemblance was so uncanny that it made Remus gasp. 

Seeing this child made Remus feel thirteen again. When he had the greatest friends anyone could ever have asked for… When he was accepted, loved… Then he shook his head roughly. _Those times are over. Never again._ He blinked, hard, forcing the stinging sensation away from his eyes. 

One of the other students shook Harry roughly and his eyes flickered open. There were those remarkable green eyes, just like Lily's… _Stop it!_ He dug in his coat pocket for a bar of chocolate and busied himself breaking it for the children. He handed each of them a piece. 

"Eat it. It'll help," he told them. "I need to go speak to the driver." He left the compartment.

His thoughts were spinning viciously inside his head. He really hadn't needed to see the driver… everything was under control… But seeing Harry left such an incredible ache in his heart. And while he was out, he may as well write to McGonagall and tell her what had happened. _He looks so much like his father… I remember when we used to- Stop it! Those times are over…_

Remus reached the conductor's quarters quickly and asked if there had been any more problems. There hadn't. 

"Do you mind if I owl ahead to Hogwarts? One of the students has taken ill," Remus said, "he's all right now." 

The conductor felt very uncomfortable around Remus for some reason he couldn't place, but he said, "Go right ahead, there's parchment and an owl in the next car."

Remus thanked the conductor and walked to the next car, reaching in to his cloak for a quill. He wrote a quick note to Professor McGonagall and told her what had happened. A sharp pang went through his heart as he wrote the words "Harry Potter," then he harshly scolded himself for letting it affect him so. _It's been twelve years. You've put it behind you._ He made his way tentatively back to the compartment.

"I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know," he grinned.


End file.
